


Never listen to Race

by ChestnutWheelBarrow



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Albert is Race’s guy, Also on Tumblr, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bryan Denton? More like Dadton, Crutchie and Race get into trouble, Crutchie lives with his grandmother, Denton is their foster dad, I exaggerate, It’s Race’s fault, Kinda a mix between 1992sies and livesies, No Beta read we die like men, Other, Overuse of italics, Texting, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, but it’s there - Freeform, its not mentioned at all, jackcrutchie but not really, poorly written accents, race and jack are brothers, this is kinda shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:14:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27207205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChestnutWheelBarrow/pseuds/ChestnutWheelBarrow
Summary: I dunno what that title is...Crutchie and Race are bored one evening, so they decide to go out together. Shenanigans occur.Also on Tumblr @kingofbr00klyn
Relationships: Bryan Denton & Racetrack Higgins, Crutchie & Jack Kelly, Crutchie & Racetrack Higgins, Racetrack Higgins & Albert DaSilva, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Never listen to Race

"Remind me ta never listen ta you again."

"How was I'se suppost ta know this would 'appen?"

"Well, I dunno. But now I’m in trouble because a’ summing I didn’t even do."

“Oh c’mon! Nuthin’ _bad_ happened. I came out worse than you did. You get to go home scot-free.”

“But still. This is all your fault an’ I’m gonna make sure everyone knows it.”

"Wow, Crutch, whatta' way to throw a pal under da bus."  
  


"You'se deserve it."

Race rolled his eyes and sulked further down into his chair, only to regret it when the hard plastic rubbed uncomfortably into his back. He glanced at his companion, who looked just about as shit as he felt. Crutchie kept nervously running a hand through his hair and fidgeting with the helm of his shirt, he looked like someone who had just been caught doing something illegal. Oh wait, that's because he had. Let's take a step back, shall we?

_2 hours earlier._

Crutchie stood outside his door step, awaiting Race's arrival. The two had decided to spend the evening together, since none of their other friends were available. Race had said he would pick him up at 6. After Crutchie's watch ticked 6:15, Race's old TP Cruiser pulled up. He wore a bright, cheeky grin as he leaned over to open the passenger side door. "Get in loser, we're going shopping!" Crutchie gleefully obliged, grabbing his crutch and sliding into the front seat.

"Are you ready for the funnest night of yer life?" Race asked, a unlit cigar hanging loosely from his mouth.

Crutchie laughed. "We'se just goin' ta the diner on 4th, ain't we?" 

"Nope," Race grabbed something from the cupholder beside him and handed it to Crutchie. "Just got this from my guy. Thought we'd treat ourselves tonight." It was a fake ID.   
  


_Antonio Higgings_

_11/12l1997_

_XXX XXXX XXX_

_XX/XX/XX_

_XX/XX/XX_

"Yer guy?" Crutchie snorted, handing the card back. "You'se mean Albert." 

"Maybe I do. Anyway, I'm low on cigs and shit, so I thought we'se stop by a corner shop and see how well this baby works." Starting the engine, Race pulled out of Crutchie's drive and set off for the nearest place that would give them what they wanted. 

"What if we'se get caught? I don't wanna be done just because you'se got a nicotine addiction." Crutchie offered, messing with the diles for the radio.

"Then I punch Albert in the face," Race resorted. That drew a snicker from the blonde. "But seriously, don't worry 'bout it. Everthin's gonna be a-okay!" 

_Spolier altert; it wasn't._

After 10 or so minutes of driving, Race pulled to a stop and poorly parked the car. "Eh, good enough." He got out, with Crutchie tailing right behind him.

"You don't gotta come in. Ya know, cuz yer so scared of gettin' caught." The taller boy mocked. 

Crutchie retaliated by hitting Race in the leg with his crutch. "I'm comin' wit' cha so you don't get punched in the face." Race forged offence, but waved off the comment. 

The shop was small, just your regular off-licence, cheap booze with an even cheaper taste, the perfect thing to fuel Race's needs. A little bell rang as they opened the door, there weren't many people inside the shop, Crutchie noted the few middle aged men who were likely in there for similar reasons as themselves. Race swaggered to the front counter, an air of confidence around him. The shop clerk, a young man with a stoic expression, rolled his eyes at the tall blonde. 

"What can I get you?" The clerk's tone was as cheerful as expected.

Race grinned cockily. "A smile would be a start, sweetheart," The shop clerk didn't respond, but continued to glare the boy down. "Okay then… A box o' ya finest Corona's and summa that scotch ya got up there." Race slapped $50 on the counter, along with his fake ID. 

The clerk picked the card up, eying it suspiciously. Crutchie had a feeling this wouldn’t end well. “Yah think you’re funny, kid? Think I don’t know what a fake ID looks like?” The clerk said. “I’m gonna have to call the cops, you know.”

Race’s expression floored. Disbelief and fear quickly made itself at home. Crutchie felt a similar dread rise up in his stomach, he looked to Race for an inkling of what to do next, but the tall boy just continued to stare dumbly. Until he finally said, “I’m gonna fuckin’ _kill_ Albert.”

As it turns out, the shop had an undercover officer outside the shop to deal with instances like this. The clerk called him in, and he escorted Crutchie and Race to the local station. Luckily, they had pretty much just been given a slap on the wrist and a call home. Except, since this wasn’t Race’s first offence, so he had also been slapped with a $50 fine. 

The boys anxiously awaited the arrival of the parents. Race had already had a million and one messages from his brother, Jack. The sonva’ was having a field day with this. Text after text about how much trouble Race would be in, how he was grounded and how much shit Jack’s going to give him for this. Race ignored his brother, instead opting for spamming Albert with a variety of angry messages in all caps. 

_GottaGoFast - RedHeadHoe_

_19:05_

GottaGoFast: ALBERT FUCKING DASILVA 

GottaGoFast: U FUCKING BITCH

GottaGoFast: IM SO GOING TO KILL U

RedHeadHoe: ???

GottaGoFast: im at the police station 

RadHeadHoe: oh what did u do now???

RedHeadHoe: OH

RedHeadHoe: YOU GOT CAUGHT

RedHeadHoe: HA 

GottaGoFast: YEAH AND ITS ALL UR FAULT

RedHeadHoe: how is it my fault??? 

GottaGoFast: BECAUSE UR THE 1 WHO GAVE ME THE ID

RedHeadHoe: dude u didnt have to use it

RedHeadHoe: also i dont make them so it aint my fault

RedHeadHoe: blame my guy

GottaGoFast: ur guy?????

RedHeadHoe: ye 

RedHeadHoe: skittery

GottaGoFast: ok but ur still dead

RedHeadHoe: cool

GottaGoFast: dentys gonna be here soon so gotta go

RedHeadHoe: good luck my dude

GottaGoFast: fuck u

RedHeadHoe: :)

Race slipped his phone into his pocket, just in time to see some familiar faces walk though the station door. Bryan Denton, Race’s foster father, walked up to the receptionist desk, before being pointed towards where the boys were sitting. Race looked at Crutchie, before straightening his back and putting on his most charming smile. "Heya Denty!" Race beamed, hoping to the gods above that this would go in his favour. Bryan didn't look particularly mad, but Denton never really got mad. It was like the man was incapable of it, it was _great_ , and Race had done a _lot_ of things that would cause any parent to flip their shit.

"Race," Bryan started, calm and collected as always."What were you thinking?" Okay, maybe it wasn't as great as Race thought, Denton's tranquill state was quite unsettling at the moment, Race had no idea what he was thinking. 

"We'se just wanted to have a bit a' fun, ya know, teenage stuff," The blonde rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Did they'se tell ya 'bout da fine?" 

"Yeah, they told me over the phone," Denton said. "I'll pay it and then we'll go home. Jack's waiting for us in the car."

Race rolled his eyes. "Oh yay."

Crutchie didn't really pay much attention to the scene in front of him, he was too caught up in his own head. Fear and worry filled his thoughts, his grandmother wasn't the most _forgiving_ then it came to things like this. Crutchie remembered once when he was 7 and snuck out of his room in the middle of the night to get one of the freshly baked cookies his grandmother had made that day, the elderly woman had found out about his midnight snack and _boy_ was there hell to pay. She wasn't particularly mean or nasty, she could just be strict at times.

 _Times like these_ , Crutchie thought as he saw his grandmother barrel towards him with an expression that would make the toughest of men wet themselves. "Charles Andrew Morris! You are in so much trouble, young man!" Oh no, she used his full name. He really was a goner. 

"Race, I don't think I'm comin' outta this alive…” Crutchie said.

Race snorted. "Don't worry, my dude, I got this." Crutchie didn't have time to ask what 'this' was, as Race stepped in front of him and greeted his grandmother.

"Mrs Morris, so good ta see ya 'gain," Race started. That diverted the woman from her path of destruction, as she instead gave the blonde a striking glare. The Italian tried not to shrink under her gaze, opting to continue with his sentence. "So um, ya see, Ma'am. It wasn't actually Crutchie's fault, it was mine. So, err, don't punish him for my mistake." 

_What?_

Crutchie was in complete disbelief. And he wasn't the only one, Bryan shared a similar expression. While Race was a good friend, he was also a bit of an asshole, so him taking all the blame for this (even though it was his fault), was a surprise. 

Crutchie’s grandmother eyed the boy suspiciously, before she turned on her heels and walked away. “Come on, Charlie, it’s time to go home.” 

Crutchie was slightly dumbfounded, but didn’t question as he hugged Race. “Thanks man.” 

Race winked and smiled. “No problem, Crutch. Text me if you ain’t dead!” 

“Will do!” 

  
  


_RiceCrutchies - Racer_

_21:35_

RiceCrutchies: Guess who aint dead :)))

Racer: yayyyy

Racer: so what happened

RiceCrutchies: Gran wasn’t very happy but she wasnt too mad

RiceCrutchies: Im grounded for 2 weeks tho

Racer: oh well at least we had 1 last night of fun before that

RiceCrutchies: Yea so how’d it go with Denton???

Racer: not too bad

Racer: im also grounded but they took my cigs at the police station so i need to get more from Albert

RiceCrutchies: You think you would have learnt your lesson but ok

Racer: 👌 

Racer: i gotta go crutch see you in school???

RiceCrutchies: Yeah, see you and try not to do anything illegal between then

Racer: no promises 

RiceCrutchies: 🤦


End file.
